


little miss perfect

by riveatstoes



Category: South Park
Genre: Based on a song, Bébé - Freeform, F/F, Little Miss Perfect, Songfic, Stan - Freeform, Taylor Louderman, Wendy - Freeform, bendy - Freeform, mentioned stendy, sleepover, south park - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25853821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riveatstoes/pseuds/riveatstoes
Summary: It’s never worth it when everyone think’s you’re perfect. Wendy Testaburger could tell you that.
Relationships: Bebe Stevens/Wendy Testaburger, Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger
Kudos: 11





	little miss perfect

I woke up. I got dressed and put on makeup. I straightened my hair. I neatly placed my finished homework back into my binder to be turned in today - sitting in front of me was a small stack of three more “A’s” to add to my grade.

Today was February 13th, junior year. I made sure that everything was... perfect. No parties, no drinking, very few friends, no relationships - I broke up with Stan officially back in eighth grade. I always made sure to make my parents proud with everything I did, every move I made.

After straightening my purple cardigan, I collected my belongings, hugged my parents goodbye and got onto the bus. It was time for another perfect day at school.

Some of my friends would always ask why, in their words, I was so uptight. Very few of them knew the reason why.

_“I was adopted when I was two,” I told Nichole and Red one night at one of our Girls’ Nights, “My parents spoiled me rotten...heh. I often ask myself what I did to deserve them; they’re so loving and there are so many people who deserve that, too. So I don’t want to fail them. I want them to be proud.”_

They were very understanding. They know what I go through every day. I want to make everyone proud of me with everything I do, and only three people know that - that, everyday, I wake up, put on a button-up white shirt and a purple cardigan, make sure my homework is neatly placed in my binder, and go to school.

However, there may just be a wrinkle in my Plan for Success. And her name is Bebe Stevens.

We grew a tad apart back in middle school, when I made it clear that I wanted to focus more on academics than my social life. She became the cheer squad captain, and I maintained my role as the president of the student council.

She and I are very different people now, but we respect each other as the leaders of two different girl groups. And I guess it would be fair to say that I kind of had a crush on her.

But I had to ignore any feelings I may have for her. Especially considering that I would be spending the night at her house for the first few days of spring break. I had to keep on a straight face. I had to keep my record clean.

In the eyes of this school, I am perfect. And I really want it to stay that way.

-

When I arrived at Bebe’s house, the first thing she let me know was that her parents had just left - she told me they wouldn’t be there beforehand, so my parents were aware and were okay with the situation. 

They left us about fifty bucks for food over the few days, which was new. Most of the time my mom made dinner so I never really was handed fifty dollars and told to have at it.

We spent most of the night in her room, watching movies, eating pizza, chatting and showing each other tweets and Instagram posts we found while talking. It was the standard sleepover, and I was very happy with how things were going.

Until she pulled a bottle of whatever out from under her bed.

“What is that?”

“One of my parents’ bottles of wine. I took it after they left and put it down there, waiting for the perfect moment to pull it out. Want some?”

“Not really.”

“C’mon, Wends! You spend all your time trying to fit into some standard you set for yourself. Loosen up for once!”

I thought about it. It’s not like anybody besides Bebe would know, and I trusted her not to tell anyone. What would one drink do?

“...Okay. But don’t tell anyone.”

She laughed, “This is literally illegal. Of course I won’t tell anyone.”

“Great.”

After about five individual sips - we shared the bottle instead of dirtying glasses - I started to feel the stress of drinking it melt off my shoulders. I think it’s only because she was there. I felt comfortable; every time she laughed, I felt the butterflies in my stomach get stronger. It was weird, but I liked it.

We’re just friends, though.

“I’m so glad we could do this. I really missed hanging out with you.”

I couldn’t contain my smile, “I missed hanging out with you, too.”

She paused for a second, but then asked, “Can I braid your hair?”

The question threw me off guard, but once I caught myself, I was able to give her a response, “Y-Yeah.”

“Awesome,” and so she did. She braided my hair, something that was rarely done. It just seemed like a lot of work. But when Bebe did it, she was so gentle with the black strands; it was so calming.

When it was all done and I looked in the mirror, I actually smiled. I was so used to seeing it down or in a ponytail, so this was new, and I gladly welcomed it. I felt beautiful, especially when she told me that the look looked “very pretty” on me.

I don’t remember what came next, exactly. I sort of remember us drinking more and watching some show on Disney+, but besides that, it was all a blur. There was only a single moment that played in my mind clearly:

I kissed her. And she kissed me back. Oh my God, SHE KISSED ME BACK! She doesn’t actually hate it!

The first thing to happen after it was over was me looking away. Out of embarrassment? Maybe, but probably not. However, looking away only made the pit in my stomach worse.

There was someone looking at us from the window. Two people, actually.

“What the hell!” I screamed, causing Bebe to look over as well. She screamed in realization, and that’s when it hit me who they were: Stan Marsh and Eric-Fucking-Cartman.

I got up off the bed and ran towards the window, but of course that made them run. I opened it and ran after them, but they were faster than me. I was so close, I could almost get them.

But the sidewalk hurt my feet, and the static filling my brain only grew as I ran further. They were going to tell everyone. Instead of Little Miss Perfect, I would be known as the school dyke. They’d only see me as the girl who kissed Bebe Stevens.

I fell to my knees and cried.

Several moments passed. Soon, I heard footsteps and Bebe yelling my name. When she got to me, she crouched down and tried to offer comfort, but I was so lost in my idiocy that I didn’t accept it.

“It’ll be okay.”

“No, it won’t. They’ll tell everyone what they saw, I’ll be known as a fucking dyke. This will ruin me, Bebe!”

“...Oh.”

After getting back to her house, we decided it would be best if I just went home. My parents really wanted to know what had happened, but I just couldn’t tell them. I didn’t want to risk disappointing them. Tonight was bad enough already.

-

The rest of spring break passed in what felt like seconds. Bebe and I didn’t even try to discuss what went on while I was there. The only big event I can count is when I got my hair cut; it now only went down to the middle of my neck. 

Part of this was because I kept remembering how she was so gentle while braiding my hair, and most of it was because it became really ratty and unkempt as of late.

When we returned to school, everyone was staring at me. Maybe it was because I was wearing a gray hoodie instead of my usual white shirt and purple cardigan. Or maybe it was because Stan and Eric told the whole school about what I did. How did I know this? The word “dyke” was sharpie-d onto my locker. Just like I expected.

“Hey, Wendy?” I turned around. It was Bebe.

“Yeah?”

“I just wanted to tell you before this got too far...it’s not gonna work out. It’s obvious that your reputation would mean more to you than us being happy, and I don’t need that. I’m sorry.”

I choked.

“...Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”

She smiled, but it wasn’t, like, a happy smile. It was a “I’m smiling because this is awkward” smile. Then, she walked away. And when she did, I sank to the ground. Everything was ruined. I wasn’t perfect. Bebe didn’t like me anymore.

I had nothing.

I tried to contain the tears coming from my eyes, but it was nearly impossible. So when I looked up and saw Stan looking at me, I was a mess. He did this to me. He ruined everything. He...

“I’m sorry if I messed things up—”

“Yeah, ‘ya did! Get away from me!”

He flinched, but nodded and left. I drove him away too. Fuck.

Nothing’s ever worth the risk. Not for me, at least. That’s what I get for trying to be Little Miss Perfect.


End file.
